A Monochrome Heart
by Alba Aulbath
Summary: As Gunmax has learned, life is not so simply laid out in things like "good" and "evil". From the start of his construction and to his life in the Brave Police, he knows.
1. Marshall

**DISCLAIMER:  
**Naturally, I own nothing in this story nor do I profit from it. Everything belongs to its original creators and writers, which I had nothing to do with.

* * *

After the failure that had been the previous model, there are several expectations of this one. It's a bit hard to say why things turned out the way they had, but he had a decent feeling on this model. All they can do is learn from their mistakes. It helps, he begrudgingly admits, that they received blueprints quite specifically from Nanamagari, the source of the BP Project.

He heads into the docking bay, peering up at the berth where the model is waiting to be activated. Standing at the ready is one of the head engineers, Marshall Starr.

"Mr. Fields, sir." Marshall turns to salute him. "Gunmax is ready to be powered up; his reformatting's been completed."

Fields blinks once, turning to face the mechanic. "Gunmax," he repeats, with a hint of confusion and surprise.

"Ah, yes. Sir. I noticed no one had properly given him a name yet. Even during the BP-500 line, they were given names to follow some distinction, so I had this installed." The engineer looks a bit sheepish. "I figured based on his schematics and all, Gunmax was a good name."

"I see." Fields strokes his thick, white beard. "Very well. Let's go ahead and power him up."

Marshall beams with a bit of pride. "You got it, sir."

After some work at the main console, a pair of orange optics flash on from the robot. Slowly, Gunmax sits up, glancing down curiously at the men before him.

"Identify yourself," Fields commands.

Gunmax squints his optics and tilts his head in return, as if not sure what to make of the demand made of him.

"Maybe more like this, sir?" Marshall clears his throat. "Why don't you introduce yourself to Mr. Fields, okay?"

"Roger." Standing up from the berth and with a bit more energy, Gunmax salutes the two humans. "BP-601. My databanks say my name is Gunmax. I think I recognize you both in that same data."

"Right. Mr. Fields has been helping oversee the BP project from American shores." Marshall grins faintly. "Granted, we haven't started a Brave Police group there yet, but all of your materials are American, and so were the engineers that helped put you together. My name is Marshall; I didn't plan your schematics, but I helped make sure you were put together correctly, Gunmax."

The newly activated robot offers a smile of his own. "Then I guess I should be thanking you both for my existence."

"Don't forget to thank the man behind your schematics, too." Marshall lets out a laugh. "You'll probably meet him sometime after you make it to Japan. His name is-"

"That's enough," Fields cuts in sternly. "Gunmax, do you know where you are right now?"

Gunmax lowers his hand finally from the salute, rubbing his chin. "Hm. Well, my databanks say this is a ship called the S.S. Washington. Am I right?"

"**Bingo!**" Marshall cheers him on. "Got it in one."

"...**Bingo?**" Gunmax looks a bit surprised at the language.

Fields continues on, "We began your construction as soon as we left shore with high expectations that you would be a success. Tell me more about yourself."

Looking a bit uncertain about the more professional attitude from Fields, Gunmax looks at Marshall; the engineer smiles broadly and motions with his hands, as if to say _go on_.

"Right, uh." Gunmax nods. "In comparison to most models, I think I'm more designed to be light, even in comparison to BP-600. This is primarily so I can ride Gunbike without crushing it under my weight. In combat, I'm able to combine with Gunbike so I can hold my own and even have flight capability. There's something else about a Max Cannon in my files, but it seems vague."

"Those details will be uploaded to your processor when you're ready," Fields confirms. "But all that seems accurate. When we hit bay, we're prepared to release you into the Highway Patrol in Nanamagari for a test run to see your effectiveness in the field. Be prepared for the responsibility, Gunmax."

"Yes sir." Looking a bit unsure of how else to respond to Fields, Gunmax salutes.

"Excellent." Fields turns to face Marshall. "I'm returning to deck. I suggest you do the same."

Marshall glances to Gunmax, then back to Fields. "Sir, if it's all the same to you, I think I'll stay here. I want to make sure that Gunmax is functioning appropriately."

A brief pause hangs in the air before Fields shrugs. "Very well. As you were."

Turning and taking his exit of the bay, both Marshall and Gunmax take a sigh of relief in unison. The pair, startled by their unified action, both end up chuckling - Marshall's coming out a tad more nervously.

"He's really not all that bad, just kind of a workaholic. A real _by the book_ kind of guy." Marshall rubs the back of his neck. "So, don't let him intimidate you."

"He seems kind of stuffy," Gunmax admits. "So, you think I'm not functioning everything the way I should, Marshall?"

The engineer returns to one of his consoles, flipping through some screens. "Nah, I'm sure everything's fine. I triple-checked you before I decided you were ready to finally be born, so to speak. I just figured you might use the company."

"You think so? I'm not a _baby_," Gunmax states rather bluntly.

"Well, aren't you straightforward! The Japanese are going to love that." Marshall chuckles. "No, it's not I think you're some kid that needs to be coddled, but it never hurts to have someone around if you need them or if you have any questions."

"I guess I have one question. When should we expect to be in Japan?"

Marshall nods. "Fair enough. In about two or three days. We could have sent you over by plane or something, but it was decided that it was a little, uh. Expensive, all things considered."

"Expensive...?" Gunmax tilts his head, antenna flicking curiously.

"Eh, don't worry about it." Marshall motions for Gunmax to follow him as he heads down a little further in the bay. "Instead, I want you to worry about the Highway Patrol and when you join it. So I'm going to get you prepared."

Gunmax snorts a bit. "I have criminal data, I know how to ride the motorcycle, I can shoot the weapons I have, and I have all of the law data for both America and Japan. I don't think I'm going to get more prepared than that."

"Consider this extra data." Marshall wears a sly grin as he turns on a television.

* * *

Since he'd been turned on, everything has been sort of a vibrant, curious experience. Gunmax already knows the basics; walking and talking aren't hard at all, and he's learning things such as ... likes and dislikes fairly quickly. For example, he's pretty sure he already isn't much into Mr. Fields's strict attitude and he's bored when the television isn't on. But he feels a pleasant spark when Marshall walks into the docking bay, holding up a DVD of CSI Miami. Granted, Gunmax doesn't know much English and he's quietly glad that Marshall is thoughtful enough to leave the subtitles on, he knows some phrases here and there and he's growing a deep admiration for Horatio.

It hasn't been an entire day yet, but on his breaks, Marshall comes to see him and Gunmax decides he likes it. And it makes him happier when Marshall promises to sleep in the docking bay to keep an eye on him. Somehow the idea of being alone on his first day of existence is uncomfortable, as much as Gunmax would not care to admit that out loud.

"You should power down and conserve your energy," Marshall suggests. "I mean, we have fuel, but it's going to be weird having someone else in the room awake when I'm trying to rest."

Gunmax nods; probably not a bad idea.

Crawling onto the berth, Gunmax pauses and looks down at Marshall as the engineer prepares his sleeping bag. "Hey, Marshall..."

"What's up?" Marshall peers at the robot.

"I know that humans dream. But if I power down, do I dream?"

A beat of silence fills the air as Marshall flattens out the sleeping bag. He plops down on top of it, scratching his head. "That's a tough question," he admits. "And I don't know if anyone's ever asked the other BP models. I never really had a chance to meet BP-600, even when we had him on shore. But I think it's possible. You have a mind of your own."

"What do you think I'll dream about?" Gunmax looks down at him curiously, orange optics wide.

Marshall shrugs. "I don't know. It could be anything. Humans dream anything from swimming in a vat of ice cream to nightmares about ghosts. I'm not sure what a robot would dream about, but I guess it wouldn't be too different from a human."

"...not too different from a human, huh." Gunmax's optics dim a little, as if he's in thought.

"Don't let it weigh on your mind much." Marshall grins. "Just get to sleep, Gunmax. When you wake up, you can tell me all about what you dream."

"If it includes ice cream, I've got to get my priorities in order," Gunmax mutters to himself, laying down on the berth before shutting off his power.

Marshall shakes his head, noting the robot's spunk.

* * *

_The room is dark, even despite his optics being on. Too dark in this windowless place, it's like a void. It's small, and the doors are locked. It's small too small, he can hardly move it feels like everything is getting smaller this is awful why would anyone do this? How long has he been in here? Why is he here? Why won't anyone let him out?_

_He smashes his fists against them, shouting, but the words are garbled. Nothing that he recognizes. But people are outside, listening! He knows!_

_The doors dent from his hands, but do not fall. He is trapped._

_He screams._

Optics power on, and Gunmax is staring at the ceiling. To his relief, the lights are on, just dimmed, and it's not a confined room. It's a nice, wide docking bay. Still not as freeing as he'd like, but it does okay, and on the floor, Marshall is still snoozing away.

Gunmax exhales through his vents. Is that what dreaming is like? Sheesh, he would have taken the ice cream suggestion instead; that was distinctly unpleasant.

He decides, ultimately, that it's better to stay awake until Marshall is up.

* * *

"So what did you dream?"

"Uh... Ice cream. Big vat of ice cream."

A laugh. "I guess if I didn't mention it to you, you would have had something more interesting, Gunmax! Sorry about that. Go ahead and fuel up, I need to go report to Mr. Fields."

"R-right. Yeah."

* * *

The day is much longer, but it also means more time spent apart from Marshall. Understandably, Gunmax knows that he has jobs to do and can't spend all of his time with him, but some strange feelings arise. There's the sense of loneliness that seems oddly familiar and easy enough to define, but there's also the feeling of confinement. Ultimately, he determines that he'd like very much to leave the docking bay.

And go where? Gunmax snorts to himself. They're in the middle of the ocean. He can't really go anywhere.

There's also not much to do in the bay on his own. Marshall's been thoughtful enough to leave his DVDs behind, but Gunmax feels like it's more fulfilling to watch it with the engineer rather than by himself, as much as he's eager to watch Horatio. Otherwise, there's nothing else for him to do other than wait around.

When the bay doors open, Gunmax's optics brighten and he looks up, smiling broadly when he sees Marshall walk through.

"Hey, Gunmax!" The mechanic pauses, raising his brow. "You don't look like you were up to much. You all right?"

"I guess. I mean- just bored. I feel a little cooped up in here," Gunmax admits.

"Mm, well." Taking out a rag and wiping off some oil from his face, Marshall takes the time to consider Gunmax's words. "I guess that's not too surprising. You were constructed to be out in the open road. Which means, being stuck in a room all day is pretty counterproductive for you; you probably want somewhere else to go. Feeling kind of antsy?"

Gunmax shrugs. "I guess so."

"I think I would be too if I were stuck in here all day long." Marshall motions for Gunmax to follow him. "Let's get you some sun, all right?"

The data in Gunmax comes with some videos. He knows what a sun looks like already, and the sun looks pretty inviting in the show he watches with Marshall. But he'll admit that he doesn't think he's ever seen one. No, his memories only recall being in this dimly lit room and the very, very dark dream he had.

So, all too gladly and with intense curiosity, he follows Marshall outside to the deck.

Somehow, it is alarming, but very... very good. The sky is bright and blue and speckled with so few clouds. The sun is nice, warming his plating right up as he stands in its rays. There's the sound of the sea as they travel, the workers talking on the deck, and the faint sound of music coming from a small stereo down the way. It's American, as he recognizes some English words and it doesn't really have anything like a British accent to imply England. His data has him remembering Japanese as his main language, but various English words trickle in.

"**Everybody!**" Marshall calls out to the crew in English. "**Come meet our guest!**"

Most of the crew pause what they were doing, turning to face the robot and Marshall alike. Gunmax looks at the group a bit warily before he looks at Marshall for help, who just smiles and gestures back to the group.

Gunmax salutes. "BP-601; I was named Gunmax. I'm going to be stationed in Nanamagari."

There's a small pause before an eruption of laughter from the group before him. Gunmax lowers his hand and jerks a little, feeling a bit flustered. Did he do that wrong or something?

"No need to be so formal!" one of the crew members shout with a broad grin. "Relax a little, Gunmax."

"Yeah, it's not like you're on duty yet!" another teases. "Settle down a bit!"

The reception is a bit warmer than he expects. This isn't quite like being out in an open road like Marshall mentioned, but it's nicer than being in the docking bay for the rest of the trip. He finds himself smiling widely, all too glad to socialize.

A lot of the chatter is in English, but some of the crew are more than happy to translate for him. It's interesting to listen to them, talk about their excitement for this project. There's a bit of pride, he thinks, that rushes through his Super A.I. chip. He feels that it's necessary to live up to those expectations, that he has more reason to do his absolute best on the Highway Patrol.

He's needed and he doesn't want to let them down.

Eventually, after the initial excitement, Marshall leads Gunmax to the edge of the vessel. It seems like a good idea to sit down, so he does. Gunmax looks down at the engineer, then offers his hand out to him. Without thinking much of it, Marshall hops on. It feels almost natural to do it this way, to bring up someone to sit on his shoulder.

"Feel better?" Marshall asks, his grin not retracting. Gunmax can't think of a time yet where the engineer hasn't looked happy.

Gunmax nods in return. "A lot better. I'm really looking forward to getting to Nanamagari and getting started. Though I guess you won't be around for that, will you, Marshall?"

"Not so much," Marshall responds. "I'll be in America again, working on other projects. But tell you what; I know where you'll end up working and I know the guy that designed you will be looking out for you, too. I'll write letters, if you want."

"Jeez, I didn't think you'd be so sentimental," Gunmax remarks with a smirk.

Marshall shrugs, laughing. "You're the one that implied you'd miss me. But if you don't want letters, I'll do better. Besides taking your motorcycle out for a spin, what do you think you might want more than anything else? C'mon, I'm an engineer; I'll try to make it come true."

"Hmm, I don't know. Anything?" Gunmax leans back on his hands.

"Anything _reasonable_," Marshall amends.

"Well, darn. There goes my request for a bit pool of ice cream," Gunmax comments sarcastically; it earns another laugh from Marshall. "I think... this is gonna sound stupid."

"Go for it."

Gunmax peers out to the setting sun. "I think I'd like to have sunglasses like Horatio. I want to be as cool as him. But I guess it might be weird to make a set of giant shades for a robot."

"Hey, if I have to help make giant magnums and revolvers for robots, I think I could get away with making a pair of giant sunglasses, too." Marshall smirks. "Besides, you're a motorcyclist, you should have a pair anyway. Makes sense, right?"

"You'll really make me a pair?" Gunmax looks at him with wide, hopeful optics.

"Yeah, sure."

Something pleasant almost seems to spark and burst inside of him. Without thinking, Gunmax picks up Marshall from his shoulder; he stands and he practically _twirls_. "That's amazing! It's going to be perfect - I'll be arresting those criminals and I'll look slick while I do it, to boot!"

"All right, all right-" Marshall chuckles. "You can put me down so I can get to work on it, okay?"

"You got it!" Gently, Gunmax sets him down. The engineer gives him a wave before he heads back into the docking bay.

"Hey, Gunmax!" one of the crewman shout to the robot. "One of the guys said you don't know any English?"

"Well, just a few words here and here," Gunmax admits. "Why? It's not like I'm gonna need it in Japan."

"C'mon, you're American! You need to know a few things, especially to go with those sunglasses. I'll teach you some more words and phrases, all right?"

* * *

There's a lot he's learned and experienced. The crew are good to him, making suggestions on what to do when he gets to Japan. Teaching him words and phrases from America. One crewman goes on to ramble about L.A., which Gunmax thinks is great because he's really only seen Miami in a TV show and L.A. sounds like a great place to be, too. The other interesting aspect is that they try to teach him how to _dance_ of all things; it's not in his databanks to perform and the other crew members look terrible when they try to dance, but they assure him it's not about skill - it's just about enjoying it.

He sort of does, but he knows he looks as terrible as they do, so he has to stop out of the sheer embarrassment.

It gets into the night and the music grows louder. He finds himself laughing, enjoying the socialization.

Finally leaving the docking bay, Marshall lets out a breath and calls out, "Hey, Gunmax! I'm all-"

"**What is going on here?**"

Although not all the words make sense to him, Gunmax knows who the voice belongs to. The way all of the crew snap to attention and salute gives off a clear indication as well; Gunmax turns his head, seeing Mr. Fields at the top of the staircase that belongs to the main cabin. Before, Gunmax knew him to be stern.

He looks lot more than stern right now.

"**Turn off that music**," Fields states firmly; some of that made sense to Gunmax, and he internally winces when someone shuts off the stereo. In clear Japanese, Fields continues on, "I will only ask you all once. Which of the major rules of this ship are we breaking right now?"

The crew, dumbfounded, look to each other.

Wincing, perhaps because he knows, Marshall reluctantly states, "...No client equipment out of the docking bay, if that is where it is stored."

Equipment? Gunmax didn't take anything with him.

Fields turns to peer at the robot specifically. "And what is this doing out from the bay?"

Oh. There's a sinking, fluttering sensation down his processor and Gunmax quickly realizes the implications.

But that doesn't stop him from speaking up, which causes Marshall to flinch when he does.

"Mr. Fields." Gunmax gives him a sharp salute. "_Sir_. I'm not just equipment. I don't think I'm any different from the rest of the crew. I can-"

"Tell me, BP-601." Fields stares at him intensely, in a way that somehow makes the the fact that he's nearly three times the human's height irrelevant. "Do you have any kind of citizenship?"

"Well, no-"

"Do you have any _rights?_"

The words cut into him and Gunmax feels even smaller. "I-"

"You are a robot. You were constructed by us. You are to be delivered to help uphold the law. It is very careless to already be breaking a _law_ on my _ship_." Fields narrows his eyes. "You are a robot. You are equipment. Your personality allows you to better cooperate with the rest of the Highway Patrol, but you are still just a machine. So where do you belong?"

"The..." Gunmax cringes internally. "The docking bay, sir."

"Then I think you can deliver yourself there."

Suddenly, his legs feel heavier than usual. Gunmax cycles his vents, heading back towards the docking bay. He hears Marshall finally speak.

"Sir, to be fair, considering what happened to BP-600-" Marshall begins.

"These are different circumstances," Fields cuts him off sharply. "Are you arguing with me?"

"I think you should be listening to the people that helped construct him," Marshall responds a little coldly before following Gunmax. "Now if you'll excuse me, sir, I have to do some maintenance on the client's _equipment_."

Slowly, Gunmax is sitting down on the berth, staring at the floor. He doesn't like to admit it, but it hurt to listen to Fields. Worst of it, he isn't necessarily sure that he's wrong, either.

He glances down towards his ankle, where Marshall is patting him. To his relief, the bay doors are shut.

"Look, don't... don't worry about Mr. Fields. I'm sure he's just under a lot of stress." Marshall sighs.

Gunmax frowns faintly. "Marshall... what happened to BP-600?"

The engineer's jaw abruptly goes tight and Marshall turns around, heading elsewhere in the bay. "Look, don't worry about it. Like I said, I want you to worry about the Highway Patrol when we get into Japan. And I have just the thing to help you out."

There's a soft dragging noise as Gunmax sees Marshall pull over a box. With a gesture, Marshall indicates to it, his smile tired but keeping its same shine as before. "Go ahead and open it."

Although Gunmax is curious about what happened to his predecessor and he notes Marshall's reluctance to delve into it, he takes the mechanic's advice and opens the box. He peers inside.

A pair of giant shades, fitted for him.

"I just asked for this a few hours ago, and you already finished?" Gunmax looks alarmed.

"Am I good, or am I good?" Marshall grins. "Put it on, I want to see how you look."

It takes a moment for Gunmax to figure out how they're fitted, but eventually, he's able to place them on effectively. The nice thing is that his optical sensors aren't much dimmed, and his other sensors function just fine. He stands, turning to face his reflection off of one of the metal panes.

"That's... that's amazing, Marshall!" Gunmax whirls around to face mechanic, his cheer just about renewed. "**So nice!**"

The engineer snorts behind his hand, his nose wrinkling. "Who taught you that, Alphonse? Practice your English a little more. But I appreciate the sentiment. You're looking pretty cool there."

Surprise is marked on both of their faces when the bay doors open. Standing with his arms behind his back is Fields, peering down the hallway. Eventually, Fields raises his hand to motion for Marshall to come outside.

"I can see you're hard at work with that maintenance. We need to speak," Fields orders firmly.

Gunmax glances down to the engineer. "Marshall...?"

"It's fine, Gunmax. Why don't you go recharge for awhile?" The physical behavior in Marshall seems to indicate otherwise as the lanky man heads out to exit the bay; he's hunched, muscles tight, and Gunmax feels an uncomfortable sense of concern for him.

It's not like Fields would hurt him, Gunmax doesn't think, but he can't help but worry anyway.

"Right," he eventually agrees quietly, watching the doors close.

With reluctance, he crawls onto the berth and turns off his optics as he powers down.

* * *

_Tonight is the night. This, he's decided. He's had enough of this place. Alone, stuffed into a shipping container, and no one will answer him - no one! _

_He braces his hands onto the walls, exhaling through his vents before he begins to kick._

_**BANG!**__ He's sick of this dark room._

_**BANG!**__ He's sick of how little it is._

_**BANG!**__ And he's absolutely sick of being ignored for so damn long!_

_**BANG!**_

_With enough kicking, the door finally gives way. His plating is dented, but that doesn't matter._

_It ends now._

_He begins to stumble down the pavement, closer to the sounds of water. He pauses, turning his head, seeing a figure laying._

Optics power on. Somehow, the sensation of the dreams give him an uncomfortable feeling, like something is off. If anything, he really wishes he could have something simple, like a dream about clouds or maybe something less dismal.

Gunmax turns his head, noticing that the bay doors are slightly open. There are voices outside, and the sun's light is trickling in like some terrible temptation, although he knows he isn't allowed out.

Still, gets to his feet and tries to approach as lightly as possible. His antenna adjusts in order to clear out his hearing.

Outside the door, he hears Marshall clearly:

"**BP-601 is just a machine and nothing else**."

What? Gunmax's has learned enough English to know what that means. Why would Marshall ever...?

He backs up enough to get back to the berth, sitting down heavily. No, that can't be right. What did Fields do?

The door finally opens and Marshall steps inside, expression darkened by lack of sleep and something else. Maybe frustration. It's a little hard for Gunmax to tell. He tilts his head, looking at the engineer with concern.

"Marshall?" he calls out hesitantly.

"How are you operating?" Marshall asks the robot curtly.

A bit taken aback by the tone, Gunmax goes on to answer, "Um. Fine."

The engineer is silent as he focuses on the console, going over the readings on Gunmax. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Marshall eventually announces, "Everything looks normal. I checked on Gunbike earlier, and she's ready to go. At dawn, we should be in Japan."

"Okay." Gunmax frowns and peers down at Marshall. "Are you all right?"

"Fine." Marshall closes the console's screens. "I need to head back to work elsewhere on the ship. You have your gasoline to refuel on. Do you need anything else?"

"No." Gunmax hops off of the berth. "Are you stopping by on your breaks? You weren't here last night."

The mechanic shakes his head. "I'll be in the break room, like everyone else. Besides, you don't need me around to recharge."

"But..." Gunmax feels at a loss. He doesn't know how to say _but who's going to watch this show with me_ without sounding utterly pathetic. It doesn't click either; Marshall's previous behavior for the last couple of days was so energetic. Something's gone wrong. _Why?_

"Marshall, what did Fields do to you?" the robot finally asks.

Marshall peers up at Gunmax, then shakes his head. "Gunmax, just concern yourself with the Highway Patrol-"

"You're always _saying_ that!" Gunmax snaps in frustration. "Whenever I want to know something you don't want me to know, you dodge the question-"

"Then it's none of your damn business!" Marshall yells back. "Quit clinging to me and grow up; you're a robot, not some kid!"

That causes Gunmax to jerk back faintly, as if the human had found a way suddenly to physically strike him in a harmful way. Without another word, Marshall shuffles out of the bay. The doors shut behind him.

Gunmax sits back down on the berth. He takes the visor that was made for him, sincerely tempted to crush it in his hands.

The material creaks as he squeezes his fingers.

Ultimately, he can't. Gunmax looks down at his hands, letting air out from his vents.

"Right. Not some kid," he mutters to himself. "Hm."

* * *

For the rest of the day and for most of the night, Gunmax was left alone. Someone else briefly checked on his status to make sure he was running optimally. He was addressed as _BP-601_ and hardly much of a glance. With Marshall and most of the crew out on the deck, Gunmax felt normal. Like a person. Why did that have to change suddenly?

He didn't feel like refueling or recharging. It wasn't until he was specifically ordered to by Fields himself that he took a gas container, glaring at the man. If there was one thing he could deal with, it'd be to never see Fields again.

Finally, the ship stopped.

It's then that there's finally some sense of relief. After spending an entire day alone with nothing to do, it's almost enough to make him go crazy.

The doors open eventually with Fields waiting for him, always giving him that stern look.

"You want something, _sir?_" Gunmax adds the last word with a snort.

"Mind that attitude of yours." Fields motions for him. "Board your motorcycle and head down the path. Waiting for you is the Commissioner of the Brave Police. He'll be escorting you to the Highway Patrol."

Gunmax shrugs. "Eh, more orders. Color me _excited_. Let's get this over with."

Fields scowls at him and Gunmax takes utter delight in his discomfort. Making no attempts to hide his smirk, Gunmax finally boards Gunbike for the first time. It feels... oddly natural to finally ride it. Like it was made for him or-

Well. Duh. He supposes that's the only truth of it.

The engine revs beautifully, and he understands a bit what Marshall had meant before about his construction and why being in a room bothered him so much with nothing to do and no where to go. It just feels _natural_ to rush out by Fields, giving a cocky smile as he heads down the railing to meet with this Saejima guy.

On his way down, Gunmax glances at the deck of the ship. He doesn't see Marshall anywhere. Somehow, it gives him a sinking feeling throughout his body, his Super A.I. sparking in discomfort.

Fine then. He's moving on to another life now, anyway. It's not like he'd ever see Marshall again anyway; what the hell was he expecting?

Gunmax comes to a stop as an older Japanese man in a gray suit waits for him. Standing beside him is another older man in plainer clothing with various oil stains, suggesting yet another engineer.

"BP-601, Gunmax?" the first man asks.

"Gunmax? No no, you must be mistaken. I'm **Santa Claus**." Gunmax leans over his motorcycle and grins. "Which one of you is supposed to be Commissioner Saejima?"

The same man nods once. "That's me. Toudou and I will be making sure you get to the Highway Patrol."

"Fine, fine. **C'mon**, let's get this going." Gunmax waits for the pair to get into their respective vehicle.

* * *

When Saejima shuts the door to the car, he gives a big grin to Toudou. "Isn't he _cool?_"

"I think you need to seriously re-evaluate your definition of _cool_, Guv," Toudou states flatly.


	2. Kirisaki

Much as he dislikes to admit it, Marshall is still right. Driving out in an open road without any constraints feels immensely better. There's a sense of nothing being better than the wind whipping past him and speeding along the roads. Frankly, if he wasn't forced to follow this commissioner guy to the Highway Patrol, he'd be tempted to just drive off on his own. That sense of freedom is tempting.

But he knows he has a duty to do. What he was constructed for.

Eventually, they finally slow down into the parking lot. The building for the patrol's headquarters is actually kind of aesthetically pleasing, surprisingly. The cherry blossom trees don't hurt, either.

Standing out front at the ready is another man with a biker helmet tucked under his arm. Gunmax isn't terribly sure what to make of him, but he suspects that the man is here for a reason. He gets off of his motorcycle, glancing down as Saejima and Toudou exit from their vehicle.

The commissioner nods to the man before addressing Gunmax, "We were sure to select one of the Highway Patrol's best men. This is Kirisaki; from this day forward, he will be your partner."

Partner. The idea doesn't really sit well with him. The bitterness of what happened on the S.S. Washington still holds onto him, but he supposes that it doesn't matter now. Gunmax isn't able to argue the point, just accept the orders. Like a _good_ machine does, right?

So he salutes Kirisaki, introducing himself the way he has before, "BP-601. Gunmax."

He doesn't understand why, but Kirisaki is smirking at him, like he's amused. "Looks like I've got my work cut out for me," he comments, saluting Gunmax in return.

Gunmax snorts a little. What the heck was _that_ supposed to mean?

"Thanks for your support," Saejima informs Kirisaki.

"Let's just hope he's useful," Kirisaki remarks. "Right, kid?"

"I'm not some _kid_," Gunmax practically hisses.

Toudou glances up at the robot in an expression Gunmax doesn't immediately recognize; it's concern and he isn't sure how to deal with that. So he looks away, folding his arms. "Well. Please take good care of him, Kirisaki," Toudou requests. "We should probably head back, Saejima."

"Mm, good point. Good luck, Gunmax." Saejima presents him with a final salute before both he and Toudou take their leave in their car.

After the car is gone, Gunmax folds his arms and peers down at Kirisaki. "So? It's not as if you need to tell me the rules. They gave me that data before I woke up."

"Then I guess we'd better get on with patrol, shouldn't we?"

Wordlessly, Gunmax watches the man head towards his motorcycle. Admittedly, it looks a little funny to see someone so small seat themselves into a patrol bike just as large as his own, but the way Kirisaki sits himself into it comes naturally to the human. It's a bit odd, but it begrudgingly earns a bit of his respect.

To work immediately, he supposes. Not that he has the room to argue.

* * *

Patrol in itself doesn't function much differently than his data files imply. It's kind of strange having a partner to fit it all in, though. It was the expectation made in the beginning and he knows that, but it's still an odd matter to adjust to. Kirisaki's personality is less than professional, but doesn't have how Marshall behaved towards him at first which was the warm friendliness that Gunmax made the mistake of attaching himself to. Instead, Kirisaki seems a bit rougher and cocky, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. After all, he's supposed to be one of the best cops in the Highway Patrol, right?

The time comes in which Kirisaki decides it's time for a breather. Which is fair enough; it'd be a good idea to fuel up their respective vehicles. And himself.

"You really need to learn to settle down," Kirisaki remarks, leaning up against the wall as he pops open a can of - _something_. To be honest, Gunmax hadn't been paying attention to what his partner was up to in the store.

That's not exactly what Gunmax was expecting to hear. The robot tilts his head as he opens his canister of gas. "What, it's not like I was being rowdy."

"If anything, you're the opposite. It's all business with you."

"I'm just doing my job," Gunmax mutters, opening his fuel line with a mental command. Less of a job and maybe more that he was constructed for it. What else was Kirisaki expecting, anyway?

His partner just shrugs and begins with, "I'm just saying you could stand to loosen up a little- _what_ the hell are you doing?"

Gunmax stands frozen in the middle of pouring gas down his line. He really isn't sure he understands Kirisaki's question. "I'm... refueling?"

"Is that how you robots do it?" After scoffing at him, Kirisaki lifts up his can. "Why don't you try doing it like this?"

Unsure of what exactly Kirisaki means, Gunmax watches him briefly drink the contents of his can. It does occur to him that there is a line that does travel to his fuel tanks, but the data he has from since he went online informed him of the direct route to his tanks. There's an alternative to the data - interesting. An alternative to _rules_.

Interesting.

With a shrug, he drinks the gas down. It's sort of weird, in comparison to how he was fueling up before, but he can actually taste it this way. It's a bitter, harsh flavor, but that's not necessarily bad. And it makes him feel _normal_.

Gunmax decides he likes it.

"Not bad, huh?" Kirisaki smirks up to him.

"Guess not," Gunmax responds as he finishes the 'test run'.

Kirisaki turns his attention back to his can. "Try not to smile too much, Gunmax - it might get stuck that way."

It occurs to him that his partner his right; he _is_ smiling. He hasn't felt that happen since he received his shades from Marshall. Granted, that's just over a day ago, but he knows he hasn't been online for awhile.

It's a long time for a few day old robot, he figures.

"Heh," he huffs out to himself before he goes to finish his can of gas.

* * *

The nice thing about the patrol is that it was fairly quiet. At worst, there were speeding issues, but Kirisaki warns that at night is usually when the gangs hit up the streets - which is probably where they'll both end up after Gunmax has all the data for the roads memorized. That part won't be an issue, Gunmax suspects. It's just data and he already feels fairly natural on the motorcycle. The bigger part has been adjusting to Kirisaki's company, but he's finding that he doesn't mind the other man at all. If anything, he's a lot different than what Gunmax was expecting.

They haven't talked much; it's mostly Kirisaki being a smart ass, but that kind of behavior doesn't irritate Gunmax. He'll admit that he kind of admires it and wishes he had the skill with words to use on Fields a few days back.

"The stuff I have to do is just leftovers and it's boring." Kirisaki shrugs as they both go in to park at headquarters. "Anyway, I guess this means you're officially off duty."

"What am I supposed to do?" It blurts out before Gunmax can think of a less ... _lost_ way of putting it. There were expectations for him to follow his programming and just worry about the Highway Patrol; what's he supposed to do outside of that?

Kirisaki snorts. "I'm not your babysitter, you figure it out."

After a moment of awkward silence, it occurs to Kirisaki that Gunmax really _means_ that he isn't sure what to do. The patrolman takes off his helmet and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Oh boy. All right, so this is the part where it's going to be up to you. You know where you can go recharge, right?" Gunmax nods in confirmation; he's had that data since he woke up. "So you have your own designated area. But you can do whatever you want right now until we both go back onto shift. You're free to do whatever."

Free to do what wants. Gunmax hesitates; he isn't sure what that would be, other than driving. Watching TV with Marshall was nice, but he doesn't want to do that right now and he isn't sure if he wants to again. He doesn't really want anything else except maybe the open road.

"You think about that; I have things I need to be doing. I'll see you here again when our next shift starts, Gunmax." Kirisaki boards off of his motorcycle.

"Right. Uh, Kirisaki?" Gunmax sits upright, looking towards his partner; the human pauses and turns to look at him. "Thanks for today."

A smug smile follows from Kirisaki as he gives the robot a brief salute before heading down the parking lot into headquarters. Gunmax debates on what he should do. All he can think of is that he can either go out driving more or go recharge. One habit quickly is becoming more typical to do than the other considering he didn't have a whole lot of other options on the shipping vessel before he arrived here.

Gunmax reluctantly boards off of his motorcycle before he heads towards his own little section of the garage.

He pauses, then looks at the garage door. To his surprise, as he tests it, it's not locked.

Still, he backs away and goes to stand in the corner. It's less comfortable, ironically, than a berth, but he understands it just takes less room this way. It's not like he should have to worry about the luxury of comfort.

He's metal. He's a machine. It's not as important.

Gunmax powers himself down.

* * *

_The only time he's seen light has been the day he was turned on. There, his primary functions were checked. After everything seemed to be in working order, he was shoved into here. This storage unit._

_He tried asking why. It was explained that it was expected he would be shipped in approximately four weeks._

_At first, he dealt with it. It was unfair, but he dealt with it._

_After the initial week, that was harder to be content with._

_The door opens to his surprise. For a brief few blessed seconds, he hears water, but sees only darkness beyond the doors, imply night time. It's an engineer, checking on him, making sure he's properly running._

_Finally, he speaks._

_"I... can I go outside?" He tries not to wince at the way his voice sounds, quiet and pleading._

_The mechanic doesn't even look at him. "Your readings are normal."_

_"Please. Just for a minute-"_

_The door shuts on him as the engineer leaves. He stands and slams his fist on the door. "Please! __**Please, just for a few seconds!**__ PLEASE!"_

Gunmax practically flinches out of recharge, stumbling forward as he holds onto the front of his helm. What the heck kind of dreams are these, anyway? Is this normal? He almost wishes he had someone else to ask. Maybe another BP model or something.

But he's the only one in this entire station. Sure, the Brave Police are in Nanamagari, but it's not as if he has regular contact with them.

He shrugs. Whatever. Maybe it's just normal. But that certainly didn't occupy all of his time, not by a long shot. It's a few more hours until his shift starts again with Kirisaki.

The robot snorts through his vents, aggravated. The dream didn't help his attitude much either. It makes his decision clear enough.

He goes to his motorcycle, boarding it before he exits out of the garage. It's time to hit the road for awhile, he expects. The same sense of freedom from before will probably be good for his senses.

* * *

Over the course of several days, Gunmax finds himself adjusting very quickly to Kirisaki's presence. Although the exterior of his partner can be gruff, Gunmax is able to have witty exchanges with him - which actually makes their time together very enjoyable. Adapting to a more human lifestyle is interesting, considering the contrast he had for the first few days on the S.S. Washington. It's... it's a good change, Gunmax determines. He even finds some good rapport with the others of the Highway Patrol.

The routine is interesting, to go from patrol to his own sense of relaxation. Joyrides are probably the main hobby he's formed, and it's good practice as well. Eventually, he's taken to cleaning his gun and listening to the other patrolmen, whether they're listening to the radio or watching TV during their break. It's been pleasant.

He thinks to himself that it'd definitely be okay if he did this for the majority of his time online. It's what he was made for, so why not?

It's close to their next shift. It's been about a week with Kirisaki, which means they've started night shifts about a day ago - which has definitely been more exciting by comparison. He won't admit it, but he's looking forward to another shift with his partner. The gangs make things more interesting at night, and Gunmax enjoys showing off.

He puts his chin into his hand, watching idly at the news. A giant panda had been in the city, which... was a thing all right, but granted, Gunmax's mental case files indicate a lot of interesting events. The Brave Police naturally became involved and he's watching the repeat of the news. Frankly, he'd been hoping to see them in action, but it's sort of... less than impressive. Some of his internal data has images of J-Decker and he'd been hoping to see him, but the panda, of all things, caught Deckerd mid-combination.

"How so very capable of them," Gunmax mutters not-so-subtly, which earns a laugh from one of the other patrolmen.

"Think things would have been different if you were there?" the patrolman asks with a grin.

Gunmax shrugs. "**Oh no!** I guess we'll just never know, will we?"

"By the way, shouldn't you be on patrol by now?"

"...Mm." Gunmax glances to an empty parking space. "He hasn't stopped by yet."

"You don't have to wait for him, you know."

"It'd just be so impolite to go without him," Gunmax remarks with a faint grin.

"Suit yourself, Gunmax."

Truthfully, he's getting a little worried about Kirisaki's tardiness. Mostly, he just hopes that his partner isn't in trouble of some kind.

He keeps an eye on the news, shaking his head a little bit at the Brave Police's antics. Eventually, the familiar noise of the engine belonging to Kirisaki's motorcycle catches his attention; Gunmax looks up to see his partner finally arriving.

"You ready to get out of here, hotshot?" Kirisaki calls out for him.

The lack of apology isn't much of a surprise nor an expectation. Gunmax just grins and starts up his motorcycle in order to follow Kirisaki out from the garage.

"Watching the Brave Police, huh?" Kirisaki remarks as they get to the open road.

Gunmax shrugs. "Maybe it's just bad timing, but I wasn't all that impressed."

Kirisaki laughs sharply. "No, I think you have them marked right. A lot of people make a big deal about them, but we're just as hard at work, aren't we?"

A small bit of pride increases in him to have his friend's approval. "What can I say, I think herding a panda shouldn't be so hard. But it wouldn't be terribly flattering either, would it?"

"They can have the pandas. Let's just stick with street gangs and call it good. You're in a good place, Gunmax."

Gunmax certainly agrees with that.

* * *

One would think, perhaps, that after a bit of destruction from a giant panda - which is still a bit of a strange thought to _accept_ so easily, but Gunmax is learning to - it would be a peaceful night. It seems though that there are other ideas from some.

Gunmax tsks to himself. "Well, criminals never have a good idea of when's a good time to take a day off, do they?" In return, Kirisaki chuckles.

Nowadays, so Gunmax has noticed, the motorcycle gangs have been packing up on stronger mods. It _does_ cause more work for the Highway Patrol, and a lot more injuries. He supposes it might be part of why he comes as a good tiding for the patrol; robots are easier to repair than people, quite honestly. Gunmax can accept that. He's okay with his place, so long as he can protect this team.

The group coming at them from the opposite direction and open fire. Gunmax acts instinctively; he turns his bike in front of Kirisaki's, raising his arm to more or less protect himself. The bullets are surprisingly powerful. Where the _hell_ are they getting these kinds of weapons?

"Gunmax!" Kirisaki sounds surprised and annoyed, but Gunmax isn't going to apologize for protecting him.

"I've got this!" the robot snaps back at him over his shoulder, raising his shotgun.

One shot and one of the bikes go down crashing, skidding over the street. Deciding that _maybe_ messing with a giant robot on a motorcycle is a terrible idea, the rest of the gang turn tail and flee down the street.

The motorcycle on the pavement before them bursts into flames after its rider scrambles out and flees off the side of the road.

"Where are they getting these upgrades...?" Gunmax mutters, scowling at the burning motorcycle. "I guess we should follow that gang-"

"No." Kirisaki peers at him. "I'm going to. Don't follow me! I'm going after them!"

_What_? Gunmax turns his head to his partner. "But, Kirisaki-!"

"Shut up and do as I say!" Kirisaki snaps at him, turning his bike and driving down the highway after the group.

The temptation to follow is there; he wants to make sure that Kirisaki is going to be okay, but he has to make the choice to trust him.

So he does.

"Right," Gunmax says quietly to himself. "Whatever you say, **partner**."

That leaves him to do... what? He isn't sure. Maybe to go back and get repairs done, not that he's really all that injured. Scraped up at worst. He's already regretting letting Kirisaki drive off like that, but he said to leave it to him.

Which means what, exactly?

Forget it. He doesn't need to follow _Kirisaki_, but he can try to track one of the gang members that drove off. Doubtful that they would have taken off in a group. That, and Gunmax can catch up easily, no matter their mods.

"They can't do this," he mutters to himself. "**CHANGE! Gunmax Armor!**"

His motorcycle comes apart, attaching itself to his body; Gunmax takes to the air, making it all the easier to work on tracking down of them. He smirks to himself, peering down at a straggler on his own, someone in a red motorcycle.

That's more like it.

Gunmax dives down sharply, just stopping short of the pavement in order to get in the way of the gang member. At the sight of the flying robot, the man shrieks. Smirking, Gunmax fires his shotgun once, the front tire going out and causing the bike to smash through the road's barrier.

"Damn it!" the gang member curses, scrambling out from the wreckage as his bike bursts into flames.

Mentally commanding the motorcycle to come off his body, Gunmax approaches the man with his magnum in hand.

"Where did you get such power-packed mods?" the robot asks ever-so-politely while pointing his gun at him.

The human snorts. "You're asking _me?_ Cut the bull - you know all too well!"

Well, if that wasn't such a way for him to lose the smirk. "What do you mean?" Gunmax demands.

"Your friend sold it to me, remember? It's good business!"

The immediate reaction he feels is utter denial. What the hell did this man think, accusing his partner like that? Gunmax practically shoves his gun further at the gang member. "_Liar!_" he snaps.

The man's voice quivers, his body trembling in real fear; a single gunshot from Gunmax would do more than just kill him, if the robot was so inclined. "I-I'm not lying! All the major gangs around here are Kirisaki's clients."

"That... that can't be-" Gunmax almost pulls back. What is he supposed to do?

It's quiet for a moment and the gang member stares at Gunmax, unsure of what the robot will do.

Gunmax stands up, but keeps his gun trained on him. "Well. Guess I'll have to bring you in for owning illegal modifications."

"What? After I-"

"That's enough!" Gunmax snaps at him.

The least he can do is arrest this damn guy, then investigate on his own.

* * *

After poking around in headquarters, he's found some disturbing pieces of information. The investigation is entirely on his own, so Gunmax chooses to say nothing to anyone as he looks into this matter. This _accusation_ that Kirisaki would have anything to do these gangs...

Much of the weapons inventory of the Highway Patrol is missing. Modifications picked up from criminals are equally missing. Gunmax even went one step further and decided to hack into the surveillance tapes, and although they show no activity, he can see the distinct implications of those tapes being _modified_. And for someone like Kirisaki who's worked here so long... he'd probably have those kinds of skills of removing himself from the videos.

No. What if it's someone else? What if that gang member was just trying to make him nervous?

It's hard to say.

While Gunmax is getting repaired, he considers tonight. No matter what, he decides, he will _not_ tell anyone. No, if it's _true_, then he needs to just trust that Kirisaki will turn himself in. He's a good man, he'll do the right thing.

Until then, Gunmax just needs to wait. That's all.

He watches Kirisaki pull up to park, his partner climbing out of his bike. "Tch, I lost them," he growls. "Gunmax, you all right?"

"Mm, I'm fine." Gunmax offers a small smile.

"Heard you managed to catch one on your own, though." Kirisaki gives a laugh. "I feel like I need to step up my game."

"It's okay. You can't help that you're getting old," Gunmax teases with a smirk.

"Ouch!" Kirisaki snorts. "Watch who you're calling _old_ there, hotshot." He rolls his shoulders. "I'm calling it a night. I'll see you tomorrow."

Gunmax nods once. He debates saying something, but he isn't sure how he could bring up such a topic. So, he leaves it alone. Instead, he waves off his partner.

That's all he can do.

* * *

The days that followed are a bit harder. Gunmax is quieter and he's certain that Kirisaki has noticed the behavior, but he continues to do his best to act like nothing has changed. That he doesn't know anything. But it's harder to deny the information he's gotten. Kirisaki gets in later, sometimes he decides to go off on his own, but comes back empty-handed.

Gunmax doesn't get angry, but it doesn't help the suspicions.

Still, for all of his silence, for his hopes that his trust in Kirisaki would pay off-

There comes a day in which Gunmax returns from a joyride in order to meet Kirisaki for their shift.

He stands in the parking garage, seeing Kirisaki's bike, just not _him_. And he waits a few minutes before he hears one of the other patrolmen behind him.

"Gunmax... Kirisaki's- he's been fired."

The robot jerks. No. "Damn it," Gunmax hisses to himself, turning around and running out of the lot.

Down the front of headquarters, he sees Kirisaki leaving.

He has no idea what he would say, but he isn't ready to see his friend go. He had- he _trusted_ him to do the right thing, he _hoped_.

"Kirisaki!" Gunmax shouts after him.

He isn't prepared for the angry, hateful look that Kirisaki shoots at him from over his shoulder. "I can't believe that you'd sell out your own _partner_."

"No! You're wrong!" Gunmax pleads.

The rage in Kirisaki's eyes are impossible to miss, and he hates knowing who it's aimed at. "Remember this: I will get back at you. I _will_ make you feel my pain."

No words manage to come from Gunmax. Helplessly, he watches Kirisaki leave.

His shoulders slump. How could it have come to this...? What happened? Gunmax didn't tell a single soul!

"Gunmax."

Turning his head to see who the speaker is, he's not too surprised to see the chief of the Highway Patrol.

"Sir," Gunmax addresses him quietly.

"Did you know what Kirisaki was doing?"

"I-" Gunmax winces. "...Yes, sir."

The chief sighs. "Another patrolman found out not long ago and immediately reported it. When we looked hard enough, the evidence and the confessions were impossible to turn a blind eye to. I'm sorry to have had let go of your partner."

"Well. That's what laws are for." Gunmax tilts his head away.

"I understand your silence on the matter. But I hope nothing like that will happen again. We'll assign you a new-"

"I don't want a new partner," Gunmax hisses. "I can work without one."

The chief scowls. "This isn't up for discussion."

"No, it _isn't._" Gunmax turns away sharply, heading into the parking garage.

He'll do this himself.

* * *

Another week rolls by. Gunmax lashes out and cuts himself off from those he'd been acquainted with. It's hard to think of ever replacing Kirisaki, one of the few friends he'd made since he was powered on. He can't have a new partner. He knows that Kirisaki was a dirty cop, but it didn't make him less of a friend.

It just hurts that Kirisaki thinks so lowly, so brutally of him now.

So he becomes careless, reckless. Gunmax can still do his job just _fine_, especially alone, and he doesn't particularly care too much of how it's done, so long as it is.

Another case comes up, and finds himself driving ahead of one of the Brave Police members - Deckerd - and taking out something called a doublebot. He can only _laugh_ when they remark upon his rougher decisions. They seem like a bunch of idiots, honestly. And ordered around by a kid, no less!

The chief of the Highway Patrol orders him back. And Gunmax can only give a helpless sigh, seeing the familiar car that belongs to Saejima and Toudou.

He leans against the wall as he sees Toudou approach him.

"Guessing they've had enough of me," Gunmax mutters.

Toudou looks towards the office. "Well. It doesn't matter; we were expecting to have you become part of the Brave Police eventually, anyway. This is just sooner than we expected."

"**Too bad! **Didn't mean to ruin your _delicate plans_, old man." Gunmax snorts. "What do you want?"

"I was hoping to have a word with you." Toudou gives out a soft sigh. "I know you've had a hard time of it in the past few weeks. Another change isn't going to help you immediately."

Gunmax shrugs. "Well, it's not like I have a choice, do I?"

Toudou shakes his head. Clearly, the old man isn't going to argue that. "Kirisaki wasn't honest with you or the rest of his team. I don't want you to feel the same way about us."

"So there's a big secret you want to tell me," Gunmax says flatly. "This ought to be good."

"It's about BP-600."

That... isn't what he was expecting. Gunmax frowns and crouches down to get closer to Toudou. "You know about BP-600?"

"I designed you and BP-600. I wasn't there for the construction, but I sent to schematics to America for the parts and labor." Toudou rubs the bridge of his nose. "You never met BP-600, and... you never will. What I want you to know, Gunmax, is that I didn't know what was happening. It's not how I would have treated either of you."

There's a soft grunt and Gunmax snaps, "Get to the point."

"...That's fair." Toudou folds his arms. "You're a cop. You know what it means for a prisoner to be placed into nearly complete isolation? Solitary confinement? What it does to a man is insane. After BP-600 was constructed, he was immediately placed into a shipping container for storage. Then they went to work on you. For that entire month, Gunmax, he was awake and aware and _feeling_. It got to the point that he made an ultimate decision."

He's quickly sure that he does not like where this was going, but he can't _not_ know now. Gunmax clenches his hands tightly. "What happened to him?"

"...BP-600 jumped into the ocean after he broke out of his shipping container. He killed himself, Gunmax."

There's a moment of silence. The robot really isn't sure what to say. That the one constructed before him decided it was easier to die because of how he was treat - and Toudou decided it was easier to inform him just so that there's no secrets? Hearing all this after everything that's happened isn't really making him _feel better._

He braces a hand to his helm. "I don't... I don't _understand_. Why did they-?"

"For some, a machine's just a tool. A lot of people don't understand most of you yet. Frankly, I'm still working on that aspect, too. But I wanted you to know what happened. I don't want there to be those kind of dark secrets."

Gunmax eventually looks down at Toudou a little more directly. "Who was he supposed to be?"

Toudou glances away, down the parking lot and towards the parked motorcycles. "BP-600 was supposed to be your partner. You were both constructed to work together. With his passing, though, you had to be changed. Reformatted to accept the new data. I hadn't finished updating the configurations for the Max Cannon by the time they were done. I won't upload them yet, not until you're officially part of the Brave Police."

"What if I don't _want_ to be?"

"I'm not sure," Toudou admits.

A way of saying that Gunmax probably doesn't have much of a choice.

The biker lets out a humorless laugh. "Yeah. Okay. I get it."

"For what it's worth, I am sorry. Saejima and I will wait outside for you when you're ready." A small hand pats Gunmax's ankle before Toudou walks away.

In silence, Gunmax stands, braced against the wall. No, hardly any choice at all. He knows what he was made for. That he was made to help uphold the law. Even if Gunmax didn't want to be part of this, what other choice does he have? What else can he do outside of that?

All of them. All of the BP line has been made for one job. It was long decided for them before they powered on.

It's what they're made for.

Gunmax lets the air escape his vents before he heads to his motorcycle.

Showtime.


End file.
